


Swimming with Stingrays

by takawbelle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Fraternities & Sororities, Zutara OPM Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takawbelle/pseuds/takawbelle
Summary: Zuko just wanted a quiet life to recover from romantic wounds. Too bad he can't keep his eyes off a certain sorority girl.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Zutara OPM Week Day 1 – Eraserheads (I did comply with the prompt but only ever so slightly.)

A/N: Zutara OPM day One: Eraserheads. ATLA is not mine, never will be. Enjoy.

_And now, I still don’t know why  
We’re here  
Can you stop the world from spinning?_

\- "Spolarium" by Eraserheads

__A trail of maroon droplets led to the bedroom. The blood was already congealing on the wooden floor, sluggishly seeping into the spaces between the slats. Inside the bedroom, there was likewise an ever-widening widening pool of blood._ _

___Bloodstains are so hard to clean _, he thought dazedly. Granted, it wasn’t his residence but his uncle had long ingrained in him the value of cleanliness.  
____

___Sirens wailed and he could see the red glow grow larger, peaking directly in front of him before receding. Zuko flinched even though the lights from the ambulance were barely visible from the window. In another world, he would probably be holding her hand as the ambulance sped off to a clean, safe hospital where her wounds would be treated with utmost professional care._ _   
_

____Then again, in another world, she wouldn’t be shot at all._ _ _ _

____He can’t bring her to the hospital. Calling the police was suicide. So while he would still hold her hand, she’d have to just settle for his well-meaning, self-taught survival skills. Clenching the handkerchief more tightly, he took a deep breath and strode into the bedroom._ _ _ _

-o-O-o-

“I knew this would happen,” hissed Zuko quietly. Trembling fingers wrapped a tourniquet over the wound and Katara felt the bleeding slow. His face solidified in her eyes. A little.

“You know a lot of things, baby,” she tried to smirk.

“Not enough to pull you away from… from this,” he gestured lamely at the last word. Around them were scattered books, a pile of dirty Jollibee takeout boxes. A bag was shoved in the corner. It was already packed with a few days’ of Katara’s clothing. In the other side of the city, Zuko’s own bag was hidden in his closet, underneath the mismatched slippers and t-shirts too tattered to wear but too beloved to be thrown away.

He wonders if he’ll have to retrieve his bag now.

A/N: #ZutaraOPM was intended to showcase Original Pinoy (Filipino) Music with a Zutara flavor. That being said, the feel and backstory of “Spolarium” doesn’t fit my view of Zutara _but _it does fit the (somewhat dark) opening scene for this fic.__

Soundtrack:  
“Spolarium” by Eraserheads  
“Careless Love” by Apartel

Here's the artwork drawn by my roomie, sapisato: <https://sapisato.tumblr.com/post/632434531644882944/zutaraopm-day-1-eraserheads-and-now-i-still>


	2. Torpe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zutara OPM Week Day 2 - Torpe

_Seven months ago…_

The first time she glided into his uncle’s café and into his life, all he saw were her eyes. He thought of how ice must feel the split-second before it gives away underneath you. Deceptively assuring. 

But he didn’t know that about her. Not yet.

She cleared her throat politely. 

The blue of her eyes was so deep, he felt the pull of an imaginary ocean trench. He heard the plaintive whispers of _sirenas _beckoning him to abandon home and hearth in favor of too-still waters.__

__He fumbled with the menu board and handed it to her._ _

__“What’s the special here?” she wondered, her finger tapping thoughtfully against her chin. He spied a ghostly white tattoo of a stingray on the back of her hand where her pointer finger joined her thumb. In stark contrast against her dusky skin, the tattoo was a delicate scar. Staring at her, he couldn’t help ask whether she was a delicate scar herself._ _

__Before he could open his mouth, his uncle smoothly inserted himself between Zuko and the counter. “We’re having _salabat_ today but we make it from scratch. Are you willing to wait, miss?”_ _

__Her eyes lit up at the mention of ginger._ _

__“I don’t mind.” She smiled just enough to show a flash of teeth, a slight crinkling at the corners of her eyes. In that moment, he knew he’d say yes if she asked him to cannonball into the deepest part of the ocean. Call it longing. Call it loneliness. Call it a harmless crush. She was just what he needed - someone to reverently place on a pedestal to ward off the shadow of Mai. A nice distraction to be appreciated from afar. Agni knows it’s been some time since a pretty girl caught his eye.  
But she need not know that. Maybe never._ _

__Zuko ducked behind the heavy curtains serving as the barrier between the kitchen and the rest of the tea shop. A kettle was already simmering quietly. He took a bulb of ginger and crushed it with the flat of the blade._ _

__“Zuko.”_ _

__He heard the giddy smile in his uncle’s voice and groaned inwardly._ _

__“I’m busy, Uncle,” he grunted, his yellow eyes fixed yet unstaring at the ginger._ _

__“From what I saw, you’re not too busy to appreciate a beautiful woman,” Iroh persisted, the smile now spreading and making his gray sideburns expand like a giddy pufferfish._ _

__Zuko ignored him and dropped the now-mangled bulb of ginger into the roiling water. He crossed his arms and stared pointedly at the kettle._ _

__His uncle whistled a gay tune, an Earth Kingdom love song about a man who was too young to marry but too in love with a woman named Toyang to care.  
At that point, Zuko sighed loudly. The seven minutes waiting for the salabat to brew just couldn’t pass by too quickly…_ _

____

-o-O-o-

If you asked Katara what she’d say if she’d be caught drinking some _lola_ -style salabat in the nicer part of town, she’d say nothing. Instead, she would just laughingly flash you a good-natured dirty finger.

Stingrays never visit the nicer parts of town. Not if they could help it. Not if they were alone. 

Still, she allowed herself a moment’s ease upon acknowledging that the décor reminded her of how Gran-Gran would have decorated her own seal stew eatery, if she had one. The fiery reds of the furniture were far removed from the muted Water Tribe blues that Gran-Gran was partial to, but this quaint café and her grandmother’s imaginary eatery both shared a reverence for their respective pasts. 

The owner of the café was definitely Fire Nation, judging from the red-trimmed mantelpieces to a painted scroll depicting timeless dragons weaving sinuously with the great sun as a benign backdrop. 

She wondered if the smiling old man was the owner. He certainly seemed like it. The cashier, on the other hand, must be his son. The family resemblance was strong, from the exact shade of the gold in their eyes to the sharp jaws. 

Just then, the cashier came bearing a steaming mug. The earthy smell of ginger was something which fascinated her with since she first tasted it a little merchant’s stall in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se. 

She flashed him a smile and was both surprised and pleased to see him blush. He set the bowl of _muscovado_ sugar a little too hard on the table before he marched back to the kitchen, but not before she saw the back of his neck redden into the same hue as the mantelpiece. 

Hiding a smirk behind her mug, she decided she’ll pay a few more visits to this café.

-o-O-o-

Soundtrack:

“Linktik” by Brownman Revival  
“Pangarap Lang Kita” – Parokya ni Edgar  
Bonus: “Toyang” by Eraserheads

 _sirenas_ \- sirens  
 _salabat_ \- ginger tea (really good for sore throats!)  
 _lola_ \- grandmother  
 _muscovado_ \- brown, unrefined sugar


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t see why you had to drag me down here. This place smells like powdered _lolo_ ,” grumbled her older brother as she poured them both blue ternate tea from a polished ceramic pot. Like most of the décor, the pot was red. Unlike most of the décor, however, this particular pot looked too fancy for the café.

She should know – she had been coming here for roughly two weeks. It was enough time to observe the interior design, chat with Iroh, the kindly owner, and work her way through the amazingly diverse menu.

And maybe – just maybe – tease the scarred cashier-slash-server, who would mysteriously disappear into the kitchen when she’d announce her presence by forcefully pushing the door open.

Just this afternoon, she opened the door gently for a change, hoping to catch him off-guard. The bells above the door barely clinked together.  
Yet, the counter was already deserted.

Disappointed, she walked to the front. She didn’t need to look back to know Sokka was following her – the sound of his dragging footsteps told her he was just barely humoring her newfound fascination with beverages around the world.

She, however, conveniently left out the part where she looked forward to the cashier’s blushing stammer whenever he’d serve her the day’s special.

There was a brief scuffle in the kitchens. A male voice yelped, “Ow! _Uncle_!” before the cashier came out, longish hair even more ruffled today.

“Hello. I would be happy to take your order,” he mumbled without meeting her eyes. He looked anything but happy. In fact, he looked downright pained.

“Now, Zuko, is that how we treat a valued customer? Miss Katara here had been diligently visiting our little café for several days now,” grinned Iroh, the café owner, as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. He looked like a smug catergator which just swallowed an arctic hen whole. Catching the twinkle in Iroh’s eye, Katara matched his grin.

“What’s the special for today, _Zuko_?”

Of course, she knew what the special was for today. Iroh already tipped her about today’s menu: _tsokolate eh_ paired with _ibos_ , or glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk and wrapped in palm leaves. But she just wanted to tease him and draw a little more emotion from him other than embarrassment.

Zuko sighed loudly and rattled off the day’s special. Behind her, Sokka stage-whispered, “Say, do they have meat? Fried arctic hen? Anything other than mouse on a stick?”

Zuko scowled. “It’s not ‘mouse on a stick.’ _Ibos_ is a – ”

“We’re a sweets and pastries kind of café so meat dishes are scarce around here. But how about a taste of today’s special, on the house?” offered Iroh cajolingly.  
Sokka visibly perked up. On the other hand, Zuko just stared back at Iroh, aghast. “How can you just give food for free, Uncle?”

“Easy,” replied Iroh as he fixed him with a genial but warning smile. “I give food because I just want to.” Turning his attention to Katara, he continued, “Besides, we scarcely have visitors from the Water Tribe. For this lovely lady to return day after day, it means our cooking must be that excellent, eh? So, please, accept my gratitude for your continued patronage.”

It was Katara’s turn to redden. “No. Let us pay. You’re running a business here, Uncle.”

“My dear, to refuse an offer is an insult,” he tutted smilingly. “Besides, when we extend the hand of friendship, who knows what we get in return?”

She thought of Gran-Gran, who would load visitors with what little they could spare: a steaming bowl of seal stew, quality jerky, newly-smoked fish. “We always have a little more to share,” her grandmother would smile when the visitors would depart and Sokka would scratch his head at the now-halved portions of his homemade jerky.

That memory prompted Katara to blurt out, “But we can’t just accept this without giving back! There must be something we can offer.”

“‘We’?” grumbled Sokka as he nudged her shoulder.

Iroh only smiled more widely. “I won’t take payment for this little gesture. But if you really insist, you can do me a little favor.”

Katara leaned forward curiously while Sokka and Zuko sported identical looks of deep suspicion.

The glint in his uncle’s eye was unsettlingly familiar to Zuko. However, his attempts to remember were disrupted when his uncle began, “We used to be humble travelers, my nephew and I, before I decided to just stop and spread roots. In fact, this little café is a repository of trinkets we picked up on various stages of our journey. Now, traveling has taken its toll on both of us. My nephew bears the brunt of loneliness silently, but he cannot hide it well.”

Said nephew was already cringing in embarrassment but Iroh continued, “We’ve been here in Ba Sing Se for around three months but he still has not made acquaintances, let alone friends.”

“So you want us to be your nephew’s friends, huh?” interrupted Sokka skeptically.

“No, no,” protested Iroh while gesturing with his hands empathically. “Friendship is a beautiful flower which opens only on its own accord. But, then again, the sun and soil must work together if we are to appreciate the flower’s quiet bloom.” He trained his eye on Katara now. “What I am asking of you, Miss Katara, is that you provide my nephew with the mere chance of meeting people. I leave it up to you how,” he concluded with a slight bow.

“Uncle – ” gritted Zuko.

“It’s fine, I’ll help,” chirped Katara.

“Ew, no,” protested Sokka.

“There’s a gig this weekend in a bar behind the Uni. Zuko can come with us,” said Katara.

This time, Sokka raised his voice. “Katara, no. That’s a Stonefish and Stingray-only event you’re talking about!”

“Sokka, _yes_. As I recall, we can invite anyone who’s not from a rival frat. Last time I checked, Zuko’s no fratboy,” she insisted.

The siblings then had a silent staring match which ended with Sokka huffing and stomping to the farthest table.

She then raised an eyebrow at Zuko. “You’re not, are you? A fratboy, I mean.”

“I’m not a _what_?” he sputtered.

“Then that settles it. I’ll wait for you outside _The Secret Tunnel_ this Saturday. I hope you can hold your alcohol,” she cheerfully told Zuko, who just remained too flabbergasted to protest.

Zuko bared his teeth at Iroh and angrily marched back to the kitchen. Just as the curtain closed behind him, he now recognized the earlier look in his uncle’s eyes.

It was the look Uncle Iroh had before he threw the winning pai sho tile.

-o-O-o-

Sokka was a skeptic as far as he can remember. To him, people’s motivations are shrouded by bright smiles and nonchalant shrugs. Right now, his instincts told him that everything the kindly old man had said and done were only calculated moves culminating in a clever pai sho gambit.

But to what ultimate end?

He frowned into his teacup, unsure whether it was a trap designed by the Freedom Fighters. Or maybe the old man really did want his nephew to just go out and meet new people.

Either way, the _ibos_ really was delicious. He wouldn’t admit it to the angry cashier, though.

“Kat,” he began after gulping down the last of his blue ternate tea and heading out the door.

“Hmm?” she smiled back.

Was he imagining it or did she look giddy?

His suspicion directed at another avenue, he bluntly asked her, “Tell me why you brought me to that café. It may be in a neutral zone but you’re far too cautious to be strolling around these parts.”

“The cuisine,” she piped up too fast.

“The real reason, Kat,” he sighed as he crossed his arms impatiently. Being siblings forced to rely on each other at an early age, they can’t lie to each other no matter how hard they tried. This was a double-edged sword and now Sokka was using it now to his advantage. He stopped and fixed her with a stare, blue eyes upon blue.  


Uncertainty replaced giddiness and Katara looked just like when she was a four-year-old, confiding in him that she lost Gran-Gran’s favorite comb.

So she told him the real reason. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly.

"That free snack back at the café should better be worth this," he muttered to himself.

-o-O-o-

A/N:

This chapter has no particular prompt going for it for Zutara OPM Week but next chapter would be Day 3: Gig. No soundtrack for this chapter because I’m stumped. :/

This one's a long, dialogue-heavy chapter, which is unusual for me. Oh, well. 

_lolo_ – grandfather  
_tsokolate eh_ – a thick chocolate drink


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zutara OPM Week Day 3 – Gigs

Caught between the busiest streets of the Middle Ring of Ba Sing Se, the bar known as _The Secret Tunnel_ was old and storied enough to be fondly considered a monument by inebriated university students.

Its origins itself were the stuff of myth: two lovers, forbidden from one another by a war that divided their fraternities and sororities, still managed to find a way to be together. Some details were unclear – whether the girl Oma belonged to the Stingrays or the Badgermoles, or whether Shu was indeed killed in a brawl between fraternities or just denied the use of one eye. Some whispered that when Shu was killed Oma went on a murderous rampage and wiped out all those who were present. Others insisted that Oma and Shu retired far away to an unnamed village in the Fire Nation, free from petty frat wars.

Judicious attempts to pry details from Bumi, the fourth-generation owner, were just met with hoarse snickers or a free beer (poured onto one’s head or into a glass, depending on his mood).

Oma and Shu may be crazily in love with each other during their time, but Bumi was just plain crazy.

Even so, the Sharks and Stingrays still held their yearly gig there. The place was strategically near campus and, for all his eccentricities, Bumi charged reasonable fees. The beer was cheap and the food was decent enough not to give anyone indigestion. For want of a better term, _The Secret Tunnel_ was the Sharks and Stingrays’ personal aquarium.

Unfortunately, all this was lost on an outsider such as Zuko.

He eyed the ramshackle bar warily, clenching his fists. People were milling about, loud boys in mohawks and girls with hair dyed outrageous colors. There were also people with more mundane appearances, but everything was too new and alien for him to let his guard down.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to brew a pot of jasmine tea in his uncle’s kitchen and call it a day. He’d even suffer through his uncle’s music night and deign to play the tsungi horn if it means leaving this place as soon as possible.

He was already slowly inching backwards when a hand rested lightly on his shoulder.

“Right on time, Zuko!” smiled Katara. Without any pretense, she dragged him by the arm and through the double doors.

In an instant, he was hit with a blast of music so loud he nearly toppled over. He winced, the music invading his ear canal and assaulting his brain.

_Do you wanna go_

_To a place I know?_

_Count with your fingers_

_And say hello*_

This was _so_ not his uncle’s music night.

Before he could pull away, slim fingers interlaced with his and suddenly Katara was shouting in his ear, “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

She led him to a table where two people were already sitting. The first one, a guy younger than him – _is he even of legal age?_ Zuko wondered – took off his cap and cheerily waved it in greeting. Just then, the girl seated beside him threw a punch for no apparent reason.

_Huh._

Judging from how the boy casually dodged her punch, Zuko guessed they’ve been through this routine for so long.

Katara gestured at the rickety chair, inviting him to sit. For the first time that night, Zuko finally found his voice.

“If I sit on that chair, will it give me tetanus?”

He didn’t mean to say it that loudly, but he might as well have shouted since the band chose to just abruptly end their song a mere moment before the words left his mouth.

“Who’s the snarky one?” drawled the girl. There was faint interest in her tone.

 _Snarky?_ Zuko opened his mouth to retort but Katara simply laughed and nudged the girl playfully.

“Oh, Zuko’s a new friend.”

The girl narrowed her pale green eyes at him; suddenly Zuko felt like she was x-raying him for possible weaknesses. After a brief stare-off, the girl gave an approving nod and turned to her beer.

_Weird. She didn’t notice my scar._

Katara leaned in and whispered, “That’s Toph. Don’t worry about her; she may look as tough as metal but on the inside she’s really-”

“I want you to finish that sentence, Sugar Queen. I really do,” challenged Toph.

“-she’s really a softie for soft, furry animals… and their owners,” finished Katara slyly.

“Like my dog, Appa!” The boy scooted closer to Zuko and grinned. A blue arrow tattoo peeked underneath his bangs. At the other end of the table, Toph was muttering, “If Appa didn’t drool and slobber and sneeze mucus, anyway.”

“I’m Aang,” smiled the boy so earnestly that Zuko found himself answering with a slight smile of his own.

Meanwhile, Sokka passed by their table wearing a technician’s headphones and a sour expression. He set down a bottle of beer in front of Zuko. “Only the first bottle’s on the house,” he said over his shoulder as if he regretted even comping that single bottle.

Zuko muttered his thanks and resigned himself to nursing that bottle until he could excuse himself and go home, but Aang had other ideas. He peppered Zuko with so many questions that Zuko had barely answered one when a new question would come up.

 _Is he pure Fire Nation?_ Yes.

 _Do they still say, “Flame-o, hotman” over at the Fire Nation?_ Gross, no.

 _Could he try bringing it back?_ Social suicide.

 _Do they serve egg custard at the tea shop?_ No, but I can make a recommendation.

All the while, Katara conversed with Toph but giggled every now and then at Zuko’s answers. On the other hand, he’d gather enough courage to look at her and smile too.

_And I was wrong_

_To ever believe that things would change_

_But suddenly_

_All of my stars would rearrange_

_And in the end_

_All my excuses have run dry**_

On and on the questions went, but Zuko didn’t mind. Aang’s probing, while outrageous and whimsical, never touched on topics Zuko hated. Topics like family and how he got that scar. Whether the boy was truly oblivious or just tactful, Zuko couldn’t tell. Still, he was grateful.

When he lifted the bottle to his lips, Zuko realized that he finished his beer so he excused himself to get another. The crowd was already lessening, the gig down to its last set. Exhausted from Aang’s questions, Zuko drifted outside.

“So, you liked the gig?” Katara wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed on the puddles faintly distorted by the drizzle. However, a half-smile played on her lips.

With great effort, he untied his tongue. “Yeah. It’s the first I attended, you know. I didn’t have much chances to go out back-”

_Back home._

“- back in the Fire Nation.” He fiddled with the beer bottle, watching the condensation form into droplets and trickle down.

“Oh? I didn’t know that. Maybe in time I’d know more about you then, Zuko,” she said with such warmth that he couldn’t believe it was directed at him, of all people.

“Yeah, in time,” he murmured.

_Slam the clock into a morning_

_These digits say I’m late again_

_Slip into something comforting_

_And backtrack to yesterday_

_These things you do_

_To keep on living_

_Are the things that’s gonna kill you_

_So come one now_

_Get up, get moving_

_‘Cause tonight it’s all through_

_Hey, I’m going to change_

_I’m gonna show the whole world_

_That life will be okay***_

A/N: Constructive comments are welcome!

Soundtrack:

*“Count with Your Fingers” by Shiela and the Insects

**“Settled” by The Ransom Collective

*** “Chillsong” by The Overnight Kings


End file.
